


with the warmth of your arms

by onward-to-victuuri (pickapebble)



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Character Study, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Insomnia, Light Angst, Literal Sleeping Together, Loneliness, M/M, Nightmares, Yuuri Is A Good Boyfriend, if you squint anyway, only sad if you really think about it, they're husbands in this one!, very light
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-02
Updated: 2017-04-02
Packaged: 2018-10-14 01:22:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10525941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pickapebble/pseuds/onward-to-victuuri
Summary: Victor’s nightmares were of empty beds and dead silence through old apartments.





	

**Author's Note:**

> i have this depressing headcanon that before yuuri, victor was severely depressed and lonely. he wasn’t really himself with anyone. he always had a front to present, a persona to embody, for everyone around him, and he did it consciously. being aware of those barriers, as victor would have been, would have been isolating and acutely painful. i think meeting yuuri, getting to know him, would have been incredible for him- yuuri is so open! whether he means to be or not! he’s an intensely emotional man, and he’s absolutely guileless- what you see is basically always what you get. it would have been so refreshing- and not only was yuuri letting victor see the real him, but he gave victor permission and even encouraged him to do the same. i love them so much???
> 
> anyway here’s wonderwall

“With the warmth of your arms you saved me,  
Oh, I'm killing loneliness with you.”  
\- “Killing Loneliness”, HIM.

*

Victor rested his chin on his forearms and shifted on his knees in front of the open window, swirling his fingertips through the thin layer of dust on the sill. He tipped his head back to look up at the wispy clouds drifting towards the moon, and inhaled deeply. The night air smelled like damp grass, and was cool but not cold, so he didn’t worry too much about letting the breeze in. The moonlight slipping over the grass in the yard was soothing, and with every breath, Victor could feel the tightness his dream had left in his heart loosen.

He didn’t often have nightmares, and even when he did, they didn’t usually fit the word very well. Victor’s nightmares weren’t traditionally frightening. He didn’t wake up in a cold sweat, or screaming, or even crying. He had never once woken Yuuri beside him by tossing and turning, even though they often fell asleep intertwined in a warm tangle of limbs.

Victor’s nightmares weren’t bloody or violent. He didn’t dream of vengeful spirits, clowns with caked makeup, sharp-toothed monsters or crazed killers.

Victor’s nightmares were of empty beds and dead silence throughout old apartments; he dreamt of sitting alone at tables in busy places, rooms full of faceless people, skating before a crowd of shadowy figures. He didn’t startle awake from them with a cry; he woke slowly, his limbs heavy and cold and his cheeks damp with tears.

He’d woken a few minutes ago, arm thrown over Yuuri with his fist clenched white in the sheets. His breathing had been labored and thick and he’d been unable to see. Victor didn't remember exactly what he’d dreamt, but he knew he’d been calling for Yuuri, and that his voice had echoed strangely off of the walls of his apartment.

Waking next to Yuuri had been both relieving and overwhelming. His husband’s warmth was almost scalding on his bare forearm, and his breath had been a physical presence against the skin of his wrist. He’d had to slip out of bed and into the living room.

Now, he breathed deeply and slowly, counting his heartbeats and tracing patterns in the stars.

It was ridiculous that he would have these dreams now. Now, when he was happy, when he was with Yuuri- sweet, gentle, beautiful Yuuri, who had stood beside the sink with Victor yesterday and splashed him with warm water, blown bubbles from his hand into Victor’s face, teased him for drying the plates too slowly- Yuuri, who was everything he had ever wanted and so much more than he’d ever dared to wish for. He’d never had the dreams before he’d met Yuuri.

But maybe, he thought, maybe that was the point. He’d lived the dreams before he met Yuuri.

Victor closed his eyes, leaned further into his arms. Small animals rustled in the bushes. Leaves whispered as the wind passed through them. Crickets chirped and sang. Footsteps sounded quietly, slowly, behind him.

A smile crossed his lips faintly as his husband’s arms came around his waist. Yuuri’s chin rested on his shoulder, his warmth seeping into him, and he whispered quietly in Japanese. “Is everything okay?”

“Fine,” Victor answered, and opened his eyes again, tipping his head against Yuuri’s gently. His Japanese was a bit stilted, a little slow, this late at night (or this early in the morning). “I didn’t mean to wake you. Sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Yuuri changed to English, for Victor’s sake. “I just wondered if you were alright.”

“I’m okay now,” Victor assured him, and was surprised to realize he was.

They knelt together in silence for a moment, listening to the night. Victor returned to watching the clouds drift across the moon.

Yuuri asked, “What are you thinking about?”

“You,” Victor answered automatically, smiling, and turned his face to catch Yuuri’s huff of embarrassment with his lips. He kissed him slowly, turned away from the window and brought his hand to the soft curve of Yuuri’s cheek. The warmth of his husband’s mouth, the soft sweep of his tongue, his hands on Victor’s waist- the last vestiges of his nightmare slipped away. He never felt so grounded as when he was in Yuuri’s arms.

Yuuri pulled back slowly, thumbs circling on Victor’s hips, and studied his face. It was dark and Yuuri wasn’t wearing his glasses, so Victor wasn’t sure how well he could see him, but whatever Yuuri saw must have satisfied him anyway as he slowly smiled, bright and sweet, and stood up.

Victor watched from the floor as Yuuri turned his phone’s flashlight on, then carefully latched the window. The last clouds passed and disappeared in the dark, and the moon glinted, whole and unobscured, for just a moment through the window before Yuuri tugged the curtains closed and reached down for Victor’s hand. He took it and stood, but ignored his husband tugging on his wrist in favor of pulling the Japanese man into his arms and tucking his nose against the top of Yuuri’s head. 

Yuuri squeaked in surprise, but after a moment he slipped his arms around Victor’s shoulders and pressed his lips against his neck. Victor smiled into his hair, breathing him in deeply.

“You chase the darkness away, Yuuri,” Victor mused in gentle Russian, pressing his lips against his husband’s forehead.”No one has ever managed to do that before you.”

Yuuri pinched his side, and Victor flinched with a laugh. “You know I can’t understand if you don’t speak slowly,” Yuuri chastised him, but his voice was soft, and when he leaned back in Victor’s arms, the eyes that met his were as warm as he’d ever seen them. “Come back to bed, Victor.”

“Of course,” murmured Victor, and he followed Yuuri as he led him by the hand back to their room, casting one final glance at the curtains over the window. The sliver of moonlight was a sharp line on the opposite wall. 

Yuuri told him over his shoulder on their way down the hall, “You’ll have trouble waking in the morning, now. You always do when you walk out like this. I suppose I’ll have to call Yura and tell him we can’t meet for brunch.”

“He’ll be thrilled,” Victor said honestly, and Yuuri gave his hand a vicious squeeze and stifled a giggle.

The memories of his dream were as vaguely defined as the clouds he’d watched in the sky. Yuuri was all that his mind had room for, then- Yuuri as he pulled Victor into their bed, wrapped him in strong arms and enveloped him in warmth; Yuuri as he kissed Victor’s cheeks, jaw, and forehead; Yuuri as he hummed quietly into Victor’s ear, breath gentle on his skin, until he fell into rose-colored dreams.

In the living room, the thin stripe of moonlight faded into the hopeful blue light of dawn.

**Author's Note:**

> when I was writing this, my ipod corrected victor to bitchie. three times. i’m so glad i live in this time of technological wonders


End file.
